


Fit like a glove

by RangoAteMyBaby (FormallyKnownAsFreya)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Choking, Dominance and Submission, Dominant Keith (Voltron), Glove Kink, Leather Kink, M/M, Manhandling, Masturbation, Submissive Lance (Voltron), Top Keith (Voltron), Voyeurism, insane lack of boundaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormallyKnownAsFreya/pseuds/RangoAteMyBaby
Summary: Lance borrows Keith's gloves to satisfy a his curiosity. Among other things.Keith finds out and decides to do something about it.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 759





	Fit like a glove

**Author's Note:**

> Found this lost little gem while organizing and cleaning out my docs. I think it might have been for tumblr??? Not sure. Anywho, hope you like it. 
> 
> There are no plans for a sequel.

What’s the big deal with those gloves? 

Lance has always wondered why they were so important to Keith’s ensemble. Keith never seems to take them off no matter what they’re doing so they must be comfortable. He always thought they were maybe made of faux leather but he’s never had the opportunity to find out for sure. 

So when he sees them on the counter in the castle kitchen, his eyes blow wide with shock. Keith never takes off his gloves. Or well, Lance supposes he takes them off when he showers, but he never gave up the idea that Keith probably sleeps with them on. Why are they on the counter? When Lance scans the room he sees why.

He’s helping Hunk wash vegetables. Guess he doesn’t want them to get wet, but that leaves them unguarded for a few minutes. Lance smirks with an idea and discretely swipes them off the counter while their backs are to him. 

Lance rubs the fabric between his thumb and forefinger with a curious look. Doesn’t feel like plastic. Literally feels like skin. So it’s gotta be—Lance raises it to his nose for a small confirmation sniff. It’s leather alright. And well worn by the soft feel of them. Is it weird that they look bigger than he expected?

He glances over at the two of them at the sink to gauge how much time he still has. There’s still a pretty big pile of purple tubers they have yet to scour of dirt. Another few minutes then. So he quietly slips one on if for no other reason than to know what it’s like to be in Keith’s shoes—er, gloves. 

Oh man he was right! They’re _so_ comfy! 

He flexes his fingers into clenched fists and turns them over as he nods with approval. Keith’s had them for so long and taken care of them so well that they form fit. Probably better on Keith’s hands than his own but still. So comfortable, no wonder Keith wants to wear them all the time. Lance raises them to his nose again for another sniff.

Nothing like the smell of leather. Reminds him of the saddles back on his uncle’s farm. But while the saddles smelled like leather, horses, and hay, these gloves just smell of leather and Keith. The small lingering smell of sweat that didn’t manage to get cleaned out. He brushes the palm of the leather to his cheek and revels in the nostalgic feel of them. 

Lance wishes he could keep them, but… he slips them off and puts them back on the counter. Can’t have Keith catching him with them on. Who knows how he’d react? Might cut off Lance’s hand so he can’t attempt it again. 

Seconds later, Hunk and Keith turn with a bowlful of clean vegetables. Hunk thanks Keith for the help who in turn just shrugs. It’s not like he had anything better to do. Keith snatches up his gloves and puts them back on before giving the two of them a nod and excusing himself.

*****

Lance finds himself thinking of those gloves frequently after that day in the kitchen. The smell and feel of leather on his skin. 

It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with Keith he tells himself. Just the gloves. And yet… every opportunity he gets, Lance takes the gloves and wears them. It’s only ever for a minute so he doesn’t get caught, and only when Keith helps Hunk with dishes or dinner.

He runs his fingers over the palms and brings it to his face to give a smell. Hell yes, that’s so good. Leather and the tiniest smell of sweat. Keith’s sweat. Fans an ember of _something_ in his gut. But he always puts them back in record time. Sits at the counter and nonchalantly drinks his milkshake when Keith turns to take his gloves back. 

After the fourth time of ‘borrowing’ them, he realizes something in his bed at night. He’s still thinking about those damn gloves, just like before, but now when he imagines them there are hands in them. Not Lance’s hands with his long slender fingers but Keith’s. 

Thick and firm fingers with callouses from using his sword. That hand pressed to his face to cover his mouth so all he can do is breathe in the heady scent through his nose. The feel of leather along his shaft, fingers curled around him and pulling in languid strokes. Lance tries to recreate it with just his own hands, and while he does get off, it doesn’t match up to the fantasy. It’s just not good enough. 

So next time… he steals them. 

The second Keith’s back is turned he takes the gloves from the counter, stuffs them in his pocket, and quickly but discreetly leaves. It’ll be at least ten minutes before they’re done with their work, and he doesn’t plan on keeping them that long. He finds a storage room, locks the door, and presses his back to it. Excitement bubbles in his gut as he pulls the gloves out to look them over while biting his lip with uncontainable anticipation. 

Lance slides them on, the leather still warm from being on Keith’s hands. Places one hand up to his face and breathes in deep. Deeper than he’s ever been able to do with Keith standing ten feet away. Rich leather and the unmistakable scent of Keith. He doesn’t mean to, but when he exhales, a small moan ekes out. 

Blood rushes to his crotch as he breathes in deep again. God yes, this is what he needs. What he _wants_. He unbuttons his pants, and without deliberation, grasps himself with another weak moan. That smooth feeling along his hard cock as he strokes. 

He works up quickly, not because he’s on a time crunch, but because this feels too good to take it slow. Keith wouldn’t take it slow would he? He’d squeeze hard and stroke fast, he thinks. Maybe even muffle Lance with his other hand. 

At that thought, Lance presses that gloved hand over his mouth to silence his panting and moans deep in his throat as he breathes in that leather. Warmth and heat spread out from his stomach until his body is an inferno. Feels so fucking good that he slides the hand from his mouth to plunge his fingers up to his knuckles past his lips to taste skin and leather.

“F-Fuck… Keith… hah…” he moans without meaning to but finds that makes his stomach burn with even more heat. “K-Keith… God…” 

Leather in his drooling mouth and wrapped around his dripping cock, Lance jolts as he releases with a cry. His body shakes against the door, his gloved hand grips tight on his cock as it spurts come to the floor. 

God, it was better than he could have ever hoped. Mostly lives up to the fantasy. He wants to stay and revel in this high longer, but he doesn’t have time. He needs to return the gloves before Keith gets suspicious. 

He cleans up the mess quickly, wipes down Keith’s gloves with a handkerchief. Luckily, he managed to keep the come off the leather. He stuffs them back into his pocket and makes his way back to the kitchen. They’re just finishing up when he gets there. Perfect timing. 

Lance sidles up to the counter and places the gloves in the exact place they were, but as his hands retract, Keith turns. He catches the quick movement of Lance putting his hands into his jacket pockets and whistling. Keith narrows his eyes at him suspiciously but says nothing. Just takes the gloves and slips them on without a word.

*****

Odd, Keith thinks. Why did Lance pull his hands back from the gloves like that? Keith inspects them, turning them over but doesn’t see anything amiss. Must have been about to do something to them but chickened out when Keith turned around. An aborted prank maybe?

But after that he can’t help but catch how Lance’s eyes follow his gloves everywhere. When Keith gestures, when he practices in the training room, when he eats. Lance thinks he’s subtle about it but… his eyes light up when Keith pulls them off for any reason. Like he’s waiting for an opportunity to… what? 

Take them and mess them up? 

Keith shakes his head of the thought. No, the look isn’t devious so much as interested. Which is odd. Lance has never expressed an interest in anything of Keith’s before. Or in Keith at all beyond rivalry, and this doesn’t feel like that. He has an idea of what it is, but he won’t entertain the thought, not without evidence.

So he decides to get some proof. 

He plans to take the gloves off and leave them on the table in the common room. The place where everyone tends to just lounge when work is slow. Lance is often in there to take naps around noon. So Keith peels them off and places them on the table. Then he leaves to go to his room, opening up a video feed to the common room. 

All he has to do is wait. He hates waiting. It’s in his top three things he hates more than anything, but he’s invested in this now. He’s gotta know.

Eventually, Lance shows up in the common room, stretching his long arms up high with yawn. It’s naptime. He vaults himself over the back of the sofa and plops on the other side. At first, it looks like he’s going to just go to sleep since he’s rolling over to put his back to the table. But then he sits up with a start, his wide eyes falling on the table.

This is it, Keith thinks as he peers at the video feed with anticipation.

Lance looks around the room and nibbles his lip, a debate on his face. His hand stretches out towards the gloves but hesitate. It almost looks like he suspects that it’s some kind of trap. He pulls a comm device out of his pocket and taps in a message. Keith’s own comm device dings.

***L.M. --You training?***

Keith taps something back out.

_*K.K. --At the pool. Done in twenty. Need something?*_

***L.M. --It can wait. Take your time.***

It’s not true of course, but giving Lance a time limit might prod him into doing whatever he’s been planning. On the screen, Lance’s face splits into a slow smile. Finally, an opportunity. He shoves the device into his pocket and grabs the gloves off the table. 

Lance carefully puts them on and flexes his fingers with a pleased look. Flipping his hands up and down to look at the backs and palms. Keith frowns with disappointment. 

That’s it? He just wanted to wear them? How bor—

Keith’s eyes go wide when Lance brings the gloves to his face and smells them. Deeply. Brushes the leather across his cheeks. Cheeks that are starting to bloom with a little warmth. Keith can hear him sighing through the feed.

“Twenty minutes, huh?” Lance hums and licks his lips. 

Lance stands and shoves his hands in his pockets then exits the room. Crap. Keith filters through the other camera feeds trying to find him again. 

Hallways. Engine room. Teleduv room. Ah! There he is! 

Keith finds Lance slipping into the closest storage room. He finds the feed to that room and clicks on it. Lance shows up on the screen, but he’s partially hidden behind some metal crates. Keith tries to zoom in, but it’s not helpful, just blurs Lance. So he zooms back out and turns on the sound to listen in.

Oh, the things he hears.

Sighs at first and quiet moans, all of which flood out of Lance’s parted mouth. Flushed face and lidded eyes. The angle makes it so he can’t see anything below the hip, but from the way Lance’s shoulder moves in quick succession, it’s obvious what his hand is doing. Lance’s other hand (with Keith’s glove still on it) cups over his throat to squeeze rhythmically.

“Oh… hah… _fuck yeah_ …” Lance groans. 

Lance sucks on his fingers, gets them sopping wet, and then suddenly he drops out of frame. Literally goes to his knees, and Keith can’t see him anymore. But his invisibility to the camera doesn't hide his noises. Lance gets much louder all of a sudden. 

“G-God yes… f-fuck…” he pants.

The wet sounds of cock being stroked and—Keith swallows at that squelching sound. His own gut twists with excitement, and he can’t even see what’s happening. But he knows and that’s enough. Lance is fucking himself on his own fingers.

“I… I’ve w-wanted this… for _weeks_ ,” he moans. “Please… don’t s-stop.”

If Keith didn’t know any better, he’d think someone was in there with Lance. But he’s most certainly alone. Talking aloud to the person he’s thinking about doing this to him. Keith licks his lips absently as he listens, his own breathing getting a little heavy at Lance’s quickening breath. 

“F-Fuck… I-I… Oh _god…_ ” Lance whines, the pitch going high. “K-Keith… please, hah… _Keeeith!_ ” he keens out a weak noise as he comes. 

“Jesus… christ,” Keith swallows and looks down at his raging hardon. 

This… this is what Lance did with his gloves that time, he realizes. He caught him putting them back after the deed was done. No wonder he looked so nervous about it. No wonder he can’t stop looking at them on Keith’s hands. He’s thinking about those gloved hands, Keith’s gloved hands, around his throat and cock, working him into a shaking release.

Keith watches as Lance cleans up the mess with a flush on his face. He then painstakingly cleans Keith’s gloves off with a scentless disposable wipe. Makes sure it’s dry and no different from when he borrowed them. Before leaving the storage closet, he rubs them on his cheek again with a sigh. Keith would think him content if not for the guilty furrow in his brow.

Lance returns to the common room with the gloves in his pocket. Once there he puts them back exactly as they were. Adjusts them slightly to make sure they’re in the right place. Then he leaves to avoid being in the vicinity when Keith shows up to claim them.

*****

Lance tells himself he needs to stop doing this. 

Every time he does it, steals the gloves, and gets off on thoughts of Keith, he always feels so guilty afterwards. It’s wrong. He knows it is. But by god, if it isn’t the best high he’s had in his life. The smell of leather and Keith, the feel of those gloves against his skin and the taste in his mouth. Makes it impossible to get to sleep at night without imagining doing it again.

He never imagined he’d get caught.

Keith left the gloves in the common room again. Seems to be doing that a lot lately. He shouldn’t be so greedy. He stole them only two days ago. Surely he can wait a few more days, especially with that close call in returning them the other day. 

But they’re sitting there, so nice and pretty, tempting him with their black luster. Keith just finished running drills on the training deck. So they’ll smell especially like Keith today. He peeled them off and tossed them down onto the table before announcing he was going to cool off. 

Within seconds of his leaving Lance snatches them up and runs to his favorite nearby storage closet.

Alone and quiet. Perfect. He picks a good spot behind some boxes and starts by putting the gloves to his face for a heady sniff. The smell sends shivers down Lance’s back. Oh. He was right. Smells like Keith alright, and it’s strong. Almost as though Keith’s hands are still in them.

This will be the best one yet, Lance thinks to himself as he pulls them on. Still warm. He runs his hands over his stomach and his hip with a hum. He undoes his pants and shimmies the boxers and pants down to his thighs. Then he grips his cock and leans his head back against the wall with a sigh. 

He’s barely started when he hears a click and whoosh of the door opening. In his panic, Lance quickly pulls up his pants, just managing to button them before someone can turn the corner, all the while berating himself for forgetting to password lock the door. His eyes meet with the very last person he wanted to find him like this.

“K-Keith? What are you—weren’t you uh, gonna go shower?” Lance laughs nervously. “You need cleaning supplies? Shampoo or something?”

God what the hell is he staring at? He pulled up his pants didn’t he? Lance’s eyes follow Keith’s trail to his hands. Shit! The gloves!

“Lance—”

“I-I… I was just messing around! I wasn’t going to damage them! Promise!” Lance assures him and peels them off and shoves them into Keith’s hands who slowly puts them on. “Haha… I was… I was just going to hide them somewhere. So I could see you freak out a little. But you uh, you caught me. Damn,” he snaps with feigned disappointment. 

Lance has the most embarrassed of flushes on his face, but at least Keith didn’t come in any later. There’s no way he could have put himself together that fast once on his knees and three fingers deep into his ass. With any luck, Keith won’t suspect him of anything other than being a jerk. 

“I’m gonna… go now.”

He tries to shoulder past but Keith grabs his arm. A sinking feeling settles in his gut. He was so hoping to avoid a scolding and beating from Keith for stealing his things, but of course, he wouldn’t get off that easy. So he braces himself for some yelling, but the yelling never comes. 

“I know what you’ve been doing with my gloves,” Keith tells him, his voice low and head downturned. 

“You do?” Lance laughs nervously but his pulse races. 

Keith knows? 

It's a wonder his heart doesn’t burst from his chest, and he doesn’t die on the spot. He’s too mortified to even look at the man holding him in place. Lance tries to tug free to escape this conversation, but Keith’s grip is iron. It’d be a turn on if he wasn’t freaking out at being caught red-handed and worried Keith is about to deck him for defiling his gloves.

“Yeah,” Keith nods. 

“Don’t uh… know what you’re talking about,” Lance denies and pulls again.

Keith yanks him back and directs him to the wall. Pinning him there with nothing more than a single gripping hand and his imposing frame. Lance doesn’t try to pull away again. And when he sees that Keith is raising his hand, Lance closes his eyes and readies himself for a punch that he feels he more than deserves at this point. 

But, just like the shouting Lance expected, the punch never comes. When he blinks his eyes open, he finds Keith’s hand hovering close to his face, shaking with hesitance. Uncertainty. His eyes meet Keith’s, which dart to the side with a frown and a flush to his cheeks.

“Keith what are you—”

The words catch in his throat when Keith cups his jaw. Smooth leather and warmth from a hand not his own. Lance breathes in slow, catching the scent of both the gloves and Keith, and it brings that heat back to his cheeks. His eyes lid to match Keith, who is now looking down at his lips. The second Lance parts them, Keith captures his mouth with his own. 

They kiss, hot and hungry with no pretense of skill. It’s desperate and wet, and Keith sucks Lance’s bottom lip in to worry between his teeth. His hand skates over Lance’s cheek to wedge a thumb into his mouth to keep it open for Keith’s tongue. The second Lance tastes fingers and leather along with Keith’s tongue, he lets out a soft moan.

This is really happening. 

“...I...”

“This is how you start,” Keith says with a panting breath. “Fingers in your mouth… drooling all over my gloves… Is it how you thought I would taste? Or is it better?”

Keith looks like he wants an answer and now.

“B-Better,” Lance answers immediately and sucks on Keith’s thumb. “So much… better.”

“If you want to keep going… drop your pants,” Keith demands.

While Keith’s mouth works on Lance’s neck and his fingers delve into his mouth, Lance’s fingers busy themselves in trying to undo his pants. It’s a little clumsy at first in his hurry, but he gets them down and his hard cock springs out of his boxers. Lance doesn’t have to announce it because the second the cold air hits him, there’s a hot hand on him and he nearly jumps at the touch.

Keith strokes him, fast and firm like Lance thought he would, only this is real. No imagining. Lance gasps and throws his head back against the wall when Keith brushes his thumb over his leaking cockhead. Reality is so much better than fiction, he tells himself.

“You brought lube in here, didn’t you?” Keith rasps the question into Lance’s neck. Lance nods because yeah, he did. He was planning on fucking himself on his fingers again. “Where?”

“P-Pocket. Left,” Lance answers, and Keith digs into his jacket to get it. “Are you—”

“Turn around, against the wall,” Keith interrupts him as he clicks the bottle open and spreads the lube onto his fingers. 

Lance does so, braces his arms against the wall. He must look a sight. Pants to his knees, cock flushed and dripping, eyes dark with lust and lips slick with spit. But Lance doesn’t care how it looks, he just wants—

“F-Fuck!” Lance gasps as two thick fingers press their way inside him. “Hah… ah… K-Kei—”

Before he can say more, a gloved hand wraps around his mouth from behind, and he moans. More of the smell and taste of leather in his nose and mouth. It’s enough to keep him from speaking, but not enough to curb his whining noises as Keith pistons those fingers into him. Keith drizzles more lube onto his fingers before stretching Lance further with three. That third finger makes Lance keen loudly and even rock a little to meet Keith’s massaging fingers. 

“K-mmphf!” Lance whines behind that hand, and Keith slides it down to grasp his neck. “G-God… I… want...”

“Want me to fuck you, Lance? With my hand wrapped around your throat and your cock?” Keith breathes heavy on his neck. 

“F-Fuck yes… pl-please!” Lance nods fervently.

Keith takes his hands off Lance to undo his pants, drops them just enough to expose himself before returning to pin Lance to the wall. He holds Lance at the hip and lines up, pushing forward inch by inch and stretching Lance open further. Keith groans while Lance pants heavily with clipped gasps.

“Keith f-fuck… hah… _Keith…_ ” he moans as he slides in. “Hah… _Fuck…_ you’re so bi—!”

Keith does as he said he would. Clamps a hand over Lance’s mouth while the other reaches around to grasp his dripping cock before he snaps his hips forward in rhythmic thrusts. Lance lets out mighty moans, much louder than anything Keith ever heard over the security feeds. Each thrust punches out louder keening noises as Lance breathes heavy through his nose. The scent of leather, sweat, and musk from from their bodies fogging up Lance’s senses until he’s whimpering.

“ _Never_ steal from me again,” Keith rumbles into his neck. “You want my gloves? You ask and you take the hands and body that comes with them. Got it?”

Lance nods as much as he’s able, but his body is starting to shake. His eyes rolling back as a cry starts crawling up his throat. Keith lets his mouth go only to pin Lance to the wall by his neck. He can still feel those gloves on him, but now he can let out his noises. Just as he’s about to come, Keith squeezes tight at his base, stopping him from releasing.

“I want to hear you say you understand,” Keith repeats and even stops his thrusting. “My gloves don’t fucking touch you unless my hands are in them.”

“Christ, K-Keith I—AaahH!” Lance whimpers at the almost painful pressure. “I… g-got it…”

“Good,” Keith nods, a smirk on his flushed face. “Good.”

“Now p-please… f-fuck me… Keith… _Please_ ,” Lance begs. 

Keith resumes fucking him hard into the wall, stroking with his gloved hand and delving his fingers into Lance’s mouth. In seconds, Lance comes with Keith’s name on his tongue along with that delicious flavor of leather. Keith and leather, two things that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to live without from this day forward, and luckily he won’t have to—

Keith and his gloves are a delicious package deal. 


End file.
